


La muerte de los mosquitos

by Bowz



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode 5 ending rewrite, F/F, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Maca's POV, Spoilers, Vis a Vis el Oasis, Zurena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowz/pseuds/Bowz
Summary: "It's what you want." She stared at her in disbelief, eyes wet. "You want me to do the dirty work."Alternate ending of episode 5 where the bus never came.(Spoilers)
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir, Zulema Zahir/Macarena Ferreiro
Comments: 19
Kudos: 106





	La muerte de los mosquitos

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! 👋
> 
> A little heads up as this is my first ever published fanfic (and not in my native language) so advices are more than welcome! 
> 
> Not gonna lie, it's a sad one. I had to get it out of my system!  
> Takes place just before the bus of kids are interrupting our ladies and digging into how Maca feels about Zulema's situation.
> 
> Enjoy!

"It's what you want." She stared at her in disbelief, eyes wet. "You want me to do the dirty work." 

  
*  
  


Macarena stormed out, slamming Zulema's bedroom door with all her forces.

She needed air. She felt like she was suffocating, like there wasn't enough oxygen in all this fucking desert to breath. Her vision blurred and, afraid to lose it in the middle of the parking lot, she started to rush towards the night. 

Her mind was racing, a thousand thoughts by second; replaying her last conversation and the whole two years she spent with the other woman. She felt her chest crushing under an invisible weight as she realized that everything was fitting like puzzle pieces. Every time she felt Zulema was off - even for her standards - from buying a trampoline on a Monday morning to dancing surrounded by a Mexican drug cartel; everything was now making sense. 

A thousands questions were twirling in her mind as her feet led her unconsciously towards the swimming pool. Surely because it was the exact opposite from Zulema. It was dark and quiet. Ama didn't light up the pool tonight, but the moon reflection was dancing on the water surface and making it sparkle. 

Maca felt like she just ran a hundred miles and the only thing she could hear through the deafening silence was her own breath. It was ragged and panicked and it became unbearable. She grabbed an half empty beer bottle, long forgotten beside a sun lounger, and threw it against a wall. It shattered into a thousand little pieces. Maca winced, it made a louder noise than she expected. But she looked around, and no one seemed to care enough to check it out. 

She made two wide steps, stopping right at the swimming pool edge, the tip of her feet hovering a few centimeters above water. She starred into the darkness.

Zulema was dying. Of fucking cancer. 

It sounded surreal. Unthinkable. Unfair. 

Almost as stupid as dying in a washing machine. Except no one will bring _her_ back to life. 

She clenched her fists hard, nails digging into tender skin. She was angry. Against Zulema and against the whole damn universe. But she was also afraid. It was selfish, but she really was. She planned to leave this life behind, stop the robberies, start fresh to provide a safe environment for her child. But deep down, she knew she was unable to stay away from Zulema for too long. At some point, she knew she would have seek her again. 

Because they were neither friends, nor family or lovers. But she makes her feel alive. 

Macarena didn't want to feel the tears that started to run down her cheeks. So she closed her eyes, turned around and let herself fall, fully clothed, into the welcoming water. 

  
*  
  


Zulema was laying down on her bed, leg crossed, drinking mezcal directly from the bottle when Maca entered the room. She was about to say something about knocking first but stopped when she noticed the state of the blonde woman, still standing at the entrance. She was barefoot and damped, her hair and makeup a mess. 

She frowned but did not asked any questions as Maca started to unbutton her jeans and slid the sticky fabric down her legs. Then, she got rid of her shirt and once in her underwear, finally moved towards Zulema, droplet of water still streaming down her long hair, ruining the carpet. 

The older woman watched in silence, her eyes following the silhouette who was making her way around the bed and lying down next to her. She took a last, long sip of alcool before putting the bottle on the nightstand and mirroring Maca's position: lying on the side, head held in her hand, facing the other woman. 

Green and hazel eyes locked and for a while, neither of them dared to speak. They knew that as soon as they'll start, nothing will ever be the same.

Zulema inhaled.

"It's brain cancer," she finally offered. A gesture of good faith after lying to her for months. Her peace offering. 

Macarena blinked. Her makeup was already ruined but she promised herself no to cry in front of her. _Brain cancer_ , she repeated internally. The tiny part of her that clung to the idea that she'll somehow miraculously make it out alive collapsed. She swallowed the news and lifted one of her hands, slowly reaching for Zulema's face. Centimeters by centimeters, like she would do for a wild animal; not sure if it was going to bite or flee. 

Zulema did neither of those and stayed perfectly still.

The tip of Maca's digits brushed over the brunette's temple, timidly, trying to grasp the idea that something in there was slowly killing her. She cupped her cheek, letting herself feel the other woman warmth for a while. Then, she slapped her. Hard. 

Zulema jerked away from her touch, surprised by the sudden aggression. "What -?!" 

"That was for not telling me sooner." 

The brunette sighed. Now up on her elbows, she pursed her lips. Maybe she deserved it. "I told you. It's my illness -"

"Your death, your choices, yeah, I know." Finished Maca, clearly upset. "I just…" She exhaled loudly. "We've been living together for two years, I just wished you shared that with me." She knew she sounded needy and in any other circumstances she would have hated it. But right now she didn't care.

"Why?" Zulema challenged, eyes piercing right trough her. The blonde clenched her jaw. "You would have stayed with me? Drove me to my doctor appointments? Held my hand once I can't remember my fucking name anymore?" Her tone was harsh and mocking, but her voice shattered just enough to let Maca know that she was in fact just as afraid as her. 

"Maybe I would have shoot you in your sleep to put you out of your misery." The blonde answered dryly. 

Zulema snorted, then let herself fall on her back. They were both looking at the ceiling. A muffled argument was coming through the wall separating them from the room next-door. 

Macarena cleared her throat.

"How long do you have left?" She dared to ask, fidgeting with her hands.

Her question was met with a minute of dead cold silence.

"Months." Eventually decided to share Zulema, scratching an imaginary stain on her shirt. It felt weird to say it out loud. Almost embarrassing.

Macarena felt her stomach drop. Again.

She rolled back on her side, tucking her hands under her head, staring at the other woman's profile. "Why did you stay with me?" She almost whispered, like someone was asleep next to them. She could have literally go anywhere, spend her last days skydiving and drinking champagne. But there she was, in this crappy motel room in the middle of nowhere. With her. 

Zulema was staring at the wall. "I..." She sighed. "I have nowhere else to go Maca." 

The young woman felt tears coming back to her eyes and she had to gather all her strenght to keep them at bay. 

She often felt lonely when she was released from jail 5 years ago. She had no one left from her life before prison; no job, no flat, dead or lost family members and forgotten friends was the reality that welcomed her outside. When Zulema accepted to join forces with her, she had this strange feeling of reinsurance and peace, like when she would come back home after a long period of time. Like crossing her path again was meant to be. 

She often wondered if Zulema was feeling the same.

"Can I hold you?" She blurted out before her reason could stop her. 

The brunette snapped her head towards Maca, almost more surprised by this question than the earlier slap. However, she didn't said no. She actually seemed to ponder the idea for a while. But facing her silence, Maca felt like she had crossed a line. Just when she was about to change the subject, Zulema quietly shift her position on the bed, turning her back.

She accepted. 

Gathering her composure, the younger woman slowly closed the distance between their two bodies. She slid one arm around her waist and the other under her neck. The situation felt awkward at first, they were both tensed and almost afraid to breath. It was a funny thing, being more used to slap, strangle or hang someone than being affectionate with them. They had sex a few times, yes - often inebriated - but this was something different. And deep down Maca regretted that, all the time she watched her sleep when they were sharing a bed in the caravan, she never dared to get closer even when she felt the urge to. 

Zulema eventually started to relax in her arms and closed her eyes, drifting slowly towards slumber. Macarena, while emotionally drained, was unable to do the same. She wanted to memorize everything. From how her body felt against hers (perfect) to the smell of her hair (vanilla shampoo and tobacco).

She wasn't ready to let her go. 

"Zulema" She whispered, waiting a few seconds to make sure she was awake. "I'm not leaving y-"

The brunette squeezed Maca's hand against her chest, stopping her. "I know." 

A beat. 

"Thank you." 


End file.
